The plump little professor had not yet unsealed the case, and when Don Pedro entered, he was standing before it rubbing his fat hands, with a gloating expression in his face. However, as Cockatoo had brought in the Peruvian’s card, Braddock expected his visitor and wheeled to face him.
“How are you, sir?” said he, extending his hand. “I am glad to see you, as I hear that you know all about this mummy of Inca Caxas.”
“Well, I do,” answered De Gayangos, sitting down in the chair which his host pushed forward. “But may I ask who told you that this mummy was that of the last Inca?”
Braddock pinched his plump chin and replied readily, enough.
“Certainly, Don Pedro. I wished to learn the difference in embalming between the Egyptians and the ancient Peruvians, and looked about for a South American corpse. Unexpectedly I saw in several European newspapers and in two English journals that a green Peruvian mummy was for sale at Malta for one thousand pounds. I sent my assistant, Sidney Bolton, to buy it, and he managed to get it, coffin and all, for nine hundred. While in Malta, and before he started back in The Diver with the mummy, he wrote me an account of the transaction. The seller—who was the son of a Maltese collector—told Bolton that his father had picked up the mummy in Paris some twenty and more years ago. It came from Lima some thirty years back, I believe, and, according to the collector in Paris, was the corpse of Inca Caxas. That is the whole story.”
Don Pedro nodded gravely.
“Was there a Latin manuscript delivered along with the mummy?” he asked.
Braddock’s eyes opened widely.
“No, sir. The mummy came thirty years ago from Lima to Paris. It passed twenty years back into the possession of the Maltese collector, and his son sold it to me a few months ago. I never heard of any manuscript.”
“Then Mr. Hope did not repeat to you what I told him the other night?”
The Professor sat down and his mouth grew obstinate.
“Mr. Hope related some story you told him and others about this mummy having been stolen from you.”
“From my father,” corrected the unsmiling Peruvian; keeping a careful eye on his host; “that is really the case. Inca Caxas is, or was, my ancestor, and this manuscript”—Don Pedro produced the same from his inner pocket—“details the funeral ceremonies.”
“Very interesting; most interesting,” fussed Braddock, stretching out his hand. “May I see it?”
“You read Latin,” observed Don Pedro, surrendering the manuscript.
Braddock raised his eyebrows.
“Of course,” he said simply, “every well-educated man reads Latin, or should do so. Wait, sir, until I glance through this document.”
“One moment,” said Don Pedro, as the Professor began to literally devour the discolored page. “You know from Hope, I have no doubt, how I chance upon my own property in Europe?”
Braddock, still with his eyes on the manuscript, mumbled:
“Your own property. Quite so: quite so.”
“You admit that. Then you will no doubt restore the mummy to me.”
By this time the drift of Don Pedro’s observations entirely reached the understanding of the scientist, and he dropped the document he was reading to leap to his feet.
“Restore the mummy to you!” he gasped. “Why, it is mine.”
“Pardon me,” said the Peruvian, still gravely but very decisively, “you admitted that it belonged to me.”
Braddock’s face deepened to a fine purple.
“I didn’t know what I was saying,” he protested. “How could I say it was your property when I have bought it for nine hundred pounds?”
“It was stolen from me.”
“That has got to be proved,” said Braddock caustically.
Don Pedro rose, looking more like, Don Quixote than ever.
“I have the honor to give you my word and—”
“Yes, yes. That is all right. I cast no imputation on your honor.”
“I should think not,” said the other coldly but strongly.
“All the same, you can scarcely expect me to part with so valuable an object,” Braddock waved his hand towards the case, “without strict inquiry into the circumstances. And again, sir, even if you succeed in proving your ownership, I am not inclined to restore the mummy to you for nothing.”
“But it is stolen property you are keeping from me.”
“I know nothing about that: I have only your bare word that it is so, Don Pedro. All I know is that I paid nine hundred pounds for the mummy and that it cost the best part of another hundred to bring it to England. What I have, I keep.”
“Like your country,” said the Peruvian sarcastically.
“Precisely,” replied the Professor suavely. “Every Englishman has a bulldog tenacity of purpose. Brag is a good dog, Don Pedro, but Holdfast is a better one.”
“Then I understand,” said the Peruvian, stretching out his hand to pick up the fallen manuscript, “that you will keep the mummy.”
“Certainly,” said Braddock coolly, “since I have paid for it. Also, I shall keep the jewels, which the manuscript tells me—from the glance I obtained of it—were buried with it.”
“The sole jewels buried are two large emeralds which the mummy holds in its hands,” explained Don Pedro, restoring the manuscript to his pocket, “and I wish for them so that I may get money to restore the fortunes of my family.”
“No! no! no!” said Braddock forcibly. “I have bought the mummy and the jewels with it. They will sell
